


Don't Push Away When You Can Push Closer

by Paranoixa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Communication Failure, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Jealous Peter, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Peter, Rain scenes, why the fuck is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoixa/pseuds/Paranoixa
Summary: After a night out with Ned, Peter comes to the startling realization that he may or may not be harboring feelings for him. Needless to say, he doesn't at all handle it well.. . ."Thunder rattles the apartments surrounding them, and lightning streaks across the sky, causing the dim street lamps to flicker and cast shadows across the two. Peter bites his lip and, with a courage that’s not his own, leans forward, just close enough to see the droplets of rain trickling down Ned’s cheeks. But then again, those might just be tears.'I thought we were getting somewhere', Ned says softly. 'We had matching suits, I was working on a theme song, and you was talking sneaking into me Stark Tower. Pete. What did I do wrong?'"





	Don't Push Away When You Can Push Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! So I was on tumblr and kind of ran into this ship. I'm hearing that there's not a lot of fancontent for them, and I think they're kind of cute, so I figured why not? In this, Ned's less of a comic relief than he is in Homecoming, but I think it turned out okay. Let me know what you think.

“Did you get the popcorn?”  
“Yes, Peter, I got the popcorn.”  
“Okay. Okay, good, good.”  
“Good.”  
“...did you get the Crunch Bites?”  
“Yeah, they were on the list twice, doubt I’d miss ‘em.”  
“Awesome.”  
“...”  
“Oh my God, we forgot the SunDrop, how could I forget the SunDrop, that’s his favorite-”  
“Peter.” Aunt May sighs and reaches out to grab Peter by his forearm before he can take off back down the aisle. “We’ve still got Coke and RC leftover from last week. I think you’re covered.”  
Peter flushes bright red. He crosses his arms over his chest and bites his lip, rocking back and forward on his heels, as the lady at the cash register rings up their items. “Just checking”, he says, drawing out the vowels. “We’ve got a two presentations to practice for next week, and we need all the energy we can get.”  
“The same presentations you guys have had a month to get ready for”, Aunt May asks with a raised eyebrow.  
Peter laughs. Digging into his pocket, he then fishes out his wallet, counts out two twenties, and slips them across the counter. “Thanks”, he murmurs as the lady hands him his change. He gathers the snacks into their bags, then starts for the door. “And, hey, we’ve been busy”, Peter says to Aunt May. “Ned’s got art, and I’ve got debate and-”  
“And you’re both with the Stark Internship”, May finishes with an eye roll. As they pass through the automatic doors of the Walmart, she fishes a hand into one of their bags and pulls out a Twix bar, snickering at the pout Peter gives in turn. “It’s a wonder the two of you have any time to just be kids. Oh, you’re growing up so fast.”  
“Ha.” Peter shrugs up his shoulders and turns his face from her, thinking back to the past few nights he’s spent showing Ned his “mad parkour skills” across the rooftops of Midtown. “Yeah. We’re, uh, total adults.” He glances down at his watch and pulls a face. 6:22. Even if they manage to catch an early train, there’s no way they’ll get back in time.  
“There’s a key under the mat”, May says knowingly. “Tell him to let himself in and help himself to some lasagna.” She bumps her hip against his and takes a bite of her candy bar. “Is everything all right with you two? You’re always so nervous whenever he comes around lately.”  
“What? No, I’m not.” He tugs at his collar and takes a discreet sniff at his pits. Probably should have showered before he left. “I just really need to get these presentations ready. They’re worth a lot of points.”  
Aunt May glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Mm hm.”  
Peter raises an eyebrow. Adjusting their groceries so that they rest in the crook of his hand, he frowns and bumps their shoulders together. “What?”  
May just smiles. “Nothing. I didn’t say nothing.” She looks down at his arms and shakes her head. “Oh”, she says, grabbing two bags of chips and candy from him. “Let me take some of that.” She walks ahead, calling over her shoulder, “And consider this your junk quota for the month!”  
Peter rolls his eyes. With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pocket. He sends Ned a text about them being late, and, a second later, he gets a gasping emoji, a few texts loaded with sarcasm, and a thumbs up. Peter giggles, his heart skipping a beat, and quickens his pace to catch up with May.  
. . .  
Naturally, they only spend a few hours reworking and practicing their presentations before the night dissolves into Netflix surfing and munching on sweets and salts. By midnight, they’ve already run through two bags of chips and half a gallon of RC. They’re lounging on Peter’s beanbag chairs, humming through the ending theme to Teen Titans, when Ned suddenly rolls onto his side and says, “Is it finished?”  
Peter doesn’t have to ask what he means. He just looks over at Ned and beams wide, scrabbling from his chair to leap onto the ceiling. He was hoping he’d ask.  
“It’s just a prototype”, Peter says as he tugs a black garbage bag from the attic. He tosses it Ned’s way, arms shyly going to wrap around himself as Ned eagerly tears the bag open. “It only looks like mine, none of the bells and whistles, you know?”  
“Dude.” Ned pulls the maroon spideysuit free of the plastic and looks up at Peter, his eyes wide and stricken with awe. “You did it.” He fingers plastic, black spider clinging to the chest and blinks softly. “You actually did it.”  
“Yeah, I just.” Peter scratches the back of his head and blushes. “You know, I figured if you’re gonna be hanging with spiderman...you’re gonna need to look the part. Oh!” As he’s speaking, Ned crosses the space between them and wraps his arms around him. Peter laughs, airy, breathless, and shakily wraps his arms back around him. He gulps and presses the side of his head against Ned’s, trembling underneath the force of his heart battering against his ribcage.  
“Awesome”, Ned says as he pulls away. “You’re awesome.”  
Peter ducks his head and smiles to his chest. “It’s whatever.”  
“Yeah, right.” He reaches over to grip Peter’s shoulders tight, thrumming with unspent energy.  
Peter smiles, all at once feeling soft and warm, and cocks his head to the side. He aims his palm to the sky and webs his own suit from the ceiling. “You ready”, he asks, biting back a smile.  
. . .  
There have been plenty of nights like this. Nights when schoolwork gets to be too much or they’ve run out of Lego Cities to build. Peter tries to keep it to a minimum for fear of something happening and Ned getting hurt, but Ned always gets so happy and giggly whenever they go that he often can’t find it in himself to say no.  
Most nights, Peter clings tight to him and just swings them throughout the city, cherishing each little gasp and laugh Ned allows to break free. Tonight, it’s much the same. Suit or not, Ned doesn’t have spider powers, and Peter knows all too well how quickly a night can change if he lets his guard down. He’s cautious, apprehensive, prudent, same as he always is.  
But even if things may still be exactly the same, Peter can’t help but feel like something’s changed. He wraps an arm around Ned’s waist and swings them to Lady Liberty and just sits beside Ned, listening to him ramble on about the coming and going ferries and the airplanes streaking against the smoky skies. Peter’s chest feels tight, and, as he feels Ned begin to sloop against him, his throat clogs with the emotions swelling within him.  
Shakily, he rises to his feet, scoops Ned up in his arms, and begins the swing back to his apartment. As he’s going, he thinks of a newsreel he once saw, of Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts flying throughout the city, Mr. Stark gripping her tight as the Stark Expo exploded around them. He thinks of the way Aunt May’s always smiling at them and that time MJ locked them in a closet and told them to come out when they’re ready. He thinks of all these things, and the way his ears go hot around Ned and how Ned’s always smiling and hugging and being such a loveable dork, and he could just choke because…  
Shit.  
. . .  
The next day, all Ned can talk about is their night out. That’s what he calls it: “our night out”; theirs. Their night. Because no one else was there and it was theirs because they spent it together, alone, with each other. Peter knows Ned doesn’t mean it that way, but he can’t help but zero in on the phrase because damn if it doesn’t sound like what he’s hoping it sounds like.  
They’re at lunch, and Peter’s picking at his serving of grilled chicken when a blob of Jello suddenly sails into the center of his tray. Peter looks up and finds Ned staring at him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.  
“Peter”, Ned begins, folding his arms on the table. “You okay?”  
Peter blinks. He stabs his chicken and nods. “Yeah”, he mutters, fighting back a blush. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”  
Ned doesn’t look convinced. “You look tired.”  
Well, he spent half the night jumping rooftops and the other half chastising himself for being dumb enough to fall in love with his best friend. “Yeah, well.” He huffs a laugh. “Homework, you know. It’s a nightmare.”  
Instead of nodding and leaving the issue alone, Ned just stares at him oddly. Peter doesn’t allow him the chance to voice his concerns. He rises from his seat, metal tray in his hands, and shrugs. “I’m not really hungry”, he says awkwardly.  
Beside Ned, MJ sits silently, her nose buried in a book, but she looks up now to give Peter a look. Peter gulps, picks his backpack up from the floor, and nods goodbye. “See you guys later”, he says underneath his breath before turning and walking away. As he’s leaving the cafeteria, his phone beeps twice; one text from Ned, saying, “Hope you feel better” and one from MJ, simply saying, “Garden Room?”. Peter wipes a trembling hand over his face, sends Ned a “thnx” and MJ a, “cut fifth period. don’t b late”.  
. . .  
“It doesn’t make any sense”, Peter groans, flopping into a seat beside an overgrown pot of foxgloves. He drops his head into his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. “Ned and I have been best friends since we were still shitting ourselves, why am I just now...now-”  
MJ looks up from her cactus and cocks her head down at him. “In love with him?”  
“God, don’t say it.” Peter winces and jumps up from his chair, leaping up from his seat and spinning a web; he crawls along the length, then pulls himself over the railing, crashing to the floor with a heavy thump.  
“If you say it, it makes getting over the panic easier.” MJ narrows her eyes and squints at the cactus, lifting her spray bottle to give it three heavy squirts. “After that, all that’s left to do is decide what you’re gonna do about it.”  
“We can’t be talking about this.” Peter laughs, breathy and disbelieving as he pushing images of a beaming, sparkly-eyed Ned away from the forefront of his mind. MJ passes her bottle to him, and he accepts it absentmindedly, spraying a shower of water onto a cluster of drooping lilies until the pot overflows. “He’s Ned, he’s my best friend.” He shakes his head, not noticing as MJ purses her lips and takes the bottle back. “I can’t be in love with him.”  
As MJ’s turning to feel at the petals of an Aster, she glances up at him with an arched eyebrow. Her eyes are soft, understanding, but also lively with mischief as she chuckles and says, “Trust me, it happens a lot more often than you think.”  
Peter opens his mouth to continue rambling on, but he takes a moment to consider her words. After disjesting them, he closes his eyes in a soft wince and shakes his head. He wipes a hand over his mouth and scoffs, opening his eyes to give her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”  
MJ’s finger pauses on the trigger of her bottle. She looks up to Peter, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion until realization glazes over her eyes. She breathes out a laugh, ducks her head, and turns away, fiddling with the charms of one of the many bracelets along her wrist. “It’s fine”, she says with a wave of her hand. “I ain’t bitter.”  
Peter rolls his eyes. “You’re always bitter.”  
MJ scoops some soil from a pot and flicks it his way, sticking out her tongue as she rises to her feet to stand beside him. “Fair”, she cedes; she lifts her bottle of V8 from the table, twists the top off, and takes a sip. “Anyhoosies”, she says, tugging her feet up into her chair. “You figure out a game plan yet?”  
“Ha. No.” He shakes his head. “No. Honestly, I’m kinda still...reeling, ya know? God.” He sits back in his chair, tilts his head back to stare at the pots dangling from the upper floor; from here, he can see the vines stumbling over the pots, trickling downwards like trembling, grassy tendrils. Despite the overwhelming sense of dread that’s been accompanying him since last night, Peter smiles, comforted by the calming presence of nature about him. He shifts in his seat, pops his knuckles, and sighs. “What am I gonna do?”  
MJ shrugs. “Tell him.”  
Peter considers this. Then, fighting back a faint surge of panic, he shakes his head and extends a hand to take hold of a stray vine dangling beside him. “How can I tell him how I feel when I don’t even know how I’m feeling? Well, I mean I do, but it’s...messy.” He traces a finger along the vine, feeling along the bumpy ridges and silky sheeths as he wills the roiling feeling in his stomach away. “Besides, I mean, I don’t wanna make things weird.”  
Weird. This whole thing is just one big, tangled twine ball of weird. Even now, after left hours to contemplate and contemplate, Peter just feels wired and wound up, crackling with irritable electricity, fingers twitching, numb, sentient, as if they don’t belong to him anymore. It’s like his world’s gone and turned up and over, leaving him struggling to understand everything from an inverted perspective.  
Ned. In hindsight, Peter should have picked up on it earlier. For years, he and Ned have been as tight as a pair of intertwined hands, always within one step of the other. They’ve always been there for one another; back in preschool, when all the other kids wanted to race through the school parking lot and they just wanted to play with building blocks; in first grade, when the cliques first became a thing and they realized, somewhat detachedly, that they didn’t have one of their own; in fourth grade, when Ned’s sister got sick and their sleepovers become less of a regularity and more of a necessity; in eighth grade when Uncle Ben got shot and Peter found himself plagued with ponderings of just what he’d done to deserve so much death and abandonment in his short little life.  
It’s been fourteen years since Peter first sat down beside Ned in that dingy daycare center, and, for all the hell they’ve been through, it’s no wonder that Peter’s...latched onto Ned. Just an extension of a rather intense relationship, he’s certain, but with this thought prompts another, the thought that Ned could also be feeling this extension, and hell if that doesn’t set his heart to a mad pace. So Peter shoves it aside and focuses on himself, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to trace down exactly when it was that his brain decided to blur the line of “friendship” with “romance”. Unshockingly, it’s quite a difficult task, so he shoves that aside as well, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he purses his lips and turns to look out the window overlooking courtyard.  
“I can handle it”, he eventually says, with about as much conviction as he feels.  
MJ raises an eyebrow. She tucks her V8 into her backpack, drops her arms onto the table, and cocks her head to the side. “‘Handle it’?”  
“Yeah. I mean, it’s just a crush. A crush”, he emphasises when all MJ does is purse her lips. “It’ll pass.”  
“Right.”  
“I’m serious, MJ. I’m not gonna turn this into a thing.”  
“I hear you.”  
Peter narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you are.”  
MJ just lifts her hands; standing from her seat, she then grabs her spray bottle and starts down the moss-covered path of stone, calling out over her shoulder, “And I think you’re projecting”. Before Peter can object, she’s grabbing another spray bottle off the ground and tossing it over her head. “Come on, help me with these babies. And try not to drown them this time, okay?”  
Peter blinks, arms dangling uselessly between his legs. His phone beeps, and he winces, knowing, even without checking, that it’s another worried text from Ned. Almost methodically, he reaches into his pocket and turns off the phone, rising to his feet to join MJ along the stone trail. He gives the trigger of his bottle a squeeze and squats beside her, spraying a patch of sunflowers until everything else just becomes background noise.  
. . .  
He doesn’t mean to ignore Ned. On the contrary, Peter’s aware of everything Ned does, hyperfocused on him in a way that makes him both breathless and thick with air. It’s like his spideysenses have gone fulltilt, zoomed in on Ned like he’s been placed under a microscope. Needless to say, it only furthers Peter’s panic and has him avoiding Ned more, and this, of course, just leaves him with more time to think about him, so it all becomes a cycle of avoiding and longing, and, before Peter knows it, three days have passed, and, despite having barely shared five words in the past few days, he finds himself even more enamoured with Ned. It’s just a big mess, one that’s afflicting Ned just as much as it is Peter.  
There’s a schoolwide assembly in the auditorium. MJ’s seated between them, looking bored as always, and Peter’s on her left, sneaking glances Ned’s way every other minute. It’s dreadfully uncomfortable. Ned’s seemed to have caught on that Peter’s avoiding him, and, all day, he’s been sulking, but, now, it seems to have taken on a current of anger. He catches Peter’s watching one time, and his eyes light up as he leans towards him. But Peter just looks away, shakily pulling out his phone to pretend to be occupied. From the corner of his eye, Peter can see Ned sink back against his chair and, with a heavy sigh, prop an elbow up on the armstand.  
MJ turns her gaze from the speaker to casts glances both their ways. Without preamble, she clears her throat, says, “Oh, wow, my pancreas shattered, better go get that looked at”, and begins walking down the aisles.  
At first, Ned doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, stiff and cold as the sweaty presenter carries on about optimism and integrity. Then, tossing a fleeting glance Peter’s way, he murmurs, “You’ve been quiet”.  
Peter fumbles with his hands and gulps. “I’ve been busy”, he says, so quick that the words bleed into each other; he spares Ned a glance and finds him staring at him like a complex puzzle. Peter’s cheeks bleed red, and he looks away, lips pursed as he mutters, “I just-I can’t be around you right now.”  
After that, Ned doesn’t say anything, and, in a way, that’s kind of worse. But Peter doesn’t want to talk about this, he’s not ready to talk about this, so he just trains his eyes forward on the bumbling speaker and pretends the frantic beating of his heart is due to an entirely unrelated matter.  
The next few days carry on in the same nature. As the time passes, Peter grows more fidgety and Ned grows more frustrated; a few times, he tries to confront Peter, to ask him just what he’s done to upset him, but Peter always brushes him aside, claiming to be busy or having to meet someone else. By Friday, the tension between them’s gotten so thick that even MJ’s grown wary of being around them. It’s all gotten out of control, but Peter’s not sure what exactly he’s supposed to do. He can’t tell him. Especially not now, not after this weird silent treatment act, the poor guy’ll probably get whiplash. And besides, even if he hadn’t handled this so shittily, Peter’s still not certain he could’ve told him anyway.  
Ned’s a great guy. Even now, when Peter’s got him coiled so tight he might as well be a spring, he still texts, quick, brief little messages, but messages nonetheless, asking if he’s okay and reminding him to put some ice on his bruises. Of the two of them, Ned’s always been the positive one, the thoughtful one, always on top of things when Peter goes off on his tangents or gets too involved in his crusades. These past few years, he’s been there for Peter more than he ever could have hoped, and how does he return the favor? Icing him out, pushing him away, when all Ned wants to know if he’s okay.  
Peter doesn’t deserve him.  
But even so, he can’t help but feel some type of way when he and MJ walk into the lunchroom Friday morning and find Miles from across the street sitting beside Ned, his face pensive and considerate as they discuss something.  
Peter pauses in the doorway, fingers gone tight round the straps of his backpack, and blinks. MJ slams into him and frowns, opening her mouth to say something until she follows his line of sight and sets her eyes on their table. She closes her mouth, crosses her arms over her chest, and sucks her lower lip into her mouth.  
“Miles is here”, he says because he doesn’t know what else to say.  
“Uh huh.”  
“Ned said, uh, he said they were getting close.” That was a little over a month ago. Peter doesn’t remember any further updates, but they’re sitting awfully close now, shoulders touching, heads bowed and lowered together. Miles is using Ned’s lucky fountain pen. He doesn’t let anyone borrow that pen.  
“Peter”, MJ, says nudging him with her shoulder. “You’re staring.”  
His heart is beating. Loud, quick, rabbity, in his ears. He feels light, slippery, like if he weren’t solid, he’d slip right through the floor. He stares at Ned, who looks happier than he’s been in days, maybe even forever, as he tosses his head back and shoves at Miles, who, in turn, just laughs and shakes his head. Peter swallows and turns his attention to the floor, staring at his untied shoelaces and mismatched socks.  
This is good. This is good. If Ned’s falling for Miles, then he won’t notice Peter’s falling for him, and this can all blow over. And Miles is a good guy. He’s friendly, smart, and, Peter can admit it, kind of cute. He could be right for Ned. And Peter could be happy for him.  
So why does he feel like his soul’s been yanked out of his chest?  
“Whatever you think you’re seeing”, MJ’s saying, softly taking hold of his forearm as she turns him to face her. “It’s not there. They’re just talking.”  
“I’m not seeing anything”, Peter returns; they begin the walk into the cafe, narrowly avoiding sailing cartons of milk and soaring servings of mashed potatoes.  
“You gonna be okay?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” They come upon their table, and Ned and Miles look up. Ned smiles at MJ and nods at Peter, averting his gaze to the notebook splayed out before him.  
“Hey, guys”, Miles greets, beaming wide as he pulls his elbows up onto the table. “Ready for the quiz in Calc today?”  
Peter frowns, tosses his backpack onto the table, and takes a seat beside MJ. “We have a quiz today?”  
MJ’s eyes go wide. “We have Calc today?”  
Miles chuckles nervously. He scratches the back of his head and twirls his hands about each other. “Er, well, it’s not anything intense. It’s supposed to be a review of ellipses and hyperbolas. You guys should be okay.”  
“‘Course.” Peter’s eyes dip down to Miles’s hand, wherein Ned’s fountain pen rests comfortably. He got Ned that pen, three years ago for his birthday. It costs him his entire Christmas savings, but it was worth it to see the glow it brought to Ned’s face. “That’s a nice pen”, he says, fighting to keep the stiffness out of his voice.  
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He smiles, bumps his shoulder against Ned’s, and holds it up before him. “Ned let me borrow it. He’s got good taste, huh?”  
Peter smiles thinly, all at once feeling as if he’s been deflated. “Yeah, I...I guess he does.”  
“Well”, MJ says loudly, bringing the attention back to herself; she scoots her own notebook to the center of the table and says, “I’m pretty good with ellipses, but I could do for the practice with their foci and vertices. Anybody got a brain I can pick? Somebody that’s pretty good at math preferably?”  
Miles blinks. “Uh, I got a 97 on the mid-chapter quiz last week.”  
“Perfect. All right, so I’ve got some practice problems here…”  
As the two delve into practice, Peter sits there, blankly staring at the polished table underneath his arms. Before he can stop himself, he pulls a sheet of paper out of his backpack and scrawls a quick message onto it: "u guys r close". He balls it up, then pushes it across the table, staring at his fingers until the ball rolls back to him.  
"Yep."  
Peter scowls. He looks up, but Ned’s pulled out his phone and begun scrolling through it. Freshly embittered, he presses the top of his pen, writes out, "glad to see u cozy", and tosses it back to Ned.  
"He’s in, like, four of my classes, and he’s cool. Figured it’d be fun."  
"i just didn’t know u guys had anything n common."  
Ned doesn’t reply to that; just scowls and shoves the paper into his carton of milk. Peter huffs, digs out another sheet of paper and angrily scribbles, "u never told me u were hanging out".  
Ned reads the note, his face calm and even, then carefully scratches out a reply, slowly sliding the paper back across the table to Peter. "You’re the one that’s too busy for a best friend, remember?"  
Peter’s flushes; his hands tremble, and a tear forms along the top of the paper. When he looks up, he finds Ned staring at him, his eyes still as frustrated and confused as they’d been days ago. Peter exhales, shoves the paper into his pocket, and tosses his backpack over his shoulder.  
“I gotta go”, he mutters under his breath. “I’ll see you guys later.”  
. . .  
Dinner’s weird. Usually, he goes out with MJ and Ned, later retreating either to his room or Ned’s place. It’s been days since he and Ned have had anything that even resembles a friendly conversation, so a night out with him’s out of the question. But even so, as he settles down at the table for a plate of mashed potatoes and chicken strips, Peter’s bombarded with memories of previous Fridays, previous weeks, when he and Ned couldn’t go more than a few hours without texting or seeing each other. Now, Peter can hardly imagine staying in the same room with him, let alone having a sleepover.  
“Peter”, Aunt May says, dragging him out of his reverie. “Is everything okay?”  
“Yeah.” Peter brushes a chicken strip along his plate, taking care to avoid collapsing mountains of potato and streaking rivers of gravy. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  
She nods, lifts her glass of lemonade to take a sip. “Things have been kinda quiet around here lately. Don’t see Ned around too much.”  
Peter narrows his eyes. “Right.”  
May spoons a heaping of potatoes into her mouth “You guys have a fight?”  
He stabs his fork into a piece of chicken. “No”, he grits out.  
“...he find out you like him?”  
Peter’s hand stills. He looks up from his plate, his face a fierce red as he begins to stutter out a response. Before he can, Aunt May smiles softly, places her fork down beside her plate, and folds her hands beneath her chin. “I know a love bloom when I see it, Pete. Come on, now. Talk to me.”  
Peter sloops in his chair. “I’m not in love with him”, he mutters miserably.  
“But you like him?” Peter doesn’t say anything. “How’s he taking it?”  
Peter sighs, propping his head up in his hand. “I haven’t told him. Honestly.” He presses his fingers to his temple and sighs. “I’ve been kinda avoiding him.”  
May raises an eyebrow.  
“I know, I know.” He picks a piece of chicken off his plate and tosses it into his mouth. “It’s stupid.”  
“Well, I wouldn’t say stupid...counterproductive, though, I’ll give you that.” She stands from her seat, scoops her plate off the table, and walks to the kitchen. “Don’t you wanna be with him”, she calls out just as the telltale sign of running water fills the air.  
“‘Course I do”, Peter says in exasperation. “But it’s not that simple. I mean, he’s my best friend.”  
“You can be in love with your best friend, Peter. That’s how a lot of relationships get started actually.”  
“Yeah, when the feeling’s mutual.”  
“And what, you don’t think it is?”  
Peter thinks back to earlier in the day, watching Ned and Miles walk towards the train station together. Something tugs tight in his chest, and the hairs running up and down his neck stand up. He brushes a hand over his eyes and huffs. “More and more, I’m getting the feeling that it’s not.”  
“Hm.” May turns off the faucet, then turns to the window dividing the kitchen and the living room. “Have you asked him”, she asks, drying her hands on a towel peppered with mini Rudolphs.  
“Absolutely not.” He stands from his chair and walks over to the other side of the window. “What if I freak him out?”  
“You and Ned have been through a lot”, May says. “If anybody can get past this, it’s you two.”  
Peter smiles. He drops his head on the counter of the divider. “Maybe”, he muses tiredly. “For now, I’d settle just for him talking to me again.”  
“Well.” Aunt May crosses the divider and pats on his shoulder. “I think you’re gonna have to make the first move there.”  
“I was afraid you’d say that.”  
. . .  
Peter sleeps on it, and, come morning, he’s deadset on telling Ned. Potential weirdness aside, dumbass, irrational decisions excluded, this thing between them isn’t going to get any better unless it all gets aired out, and the only way that can happen is if Peter puts it out.  
He spends the day at home, rehearsing just what it is he needs to say and how he wants to say it. Once he’s satisfied, he sighs, slides into his suit, and crawls out his window to swing to Ned’s place. He’s swinging past the Warren Fields Park, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, when he catches sight of Ned and Miles sitting on a park bench.  
And, hell, if his heart doesn’t just lurch at that.  
Peter shoots out a web into the tree behind them and swings into it; he descends the branches, breathing heavy in his ears, and peers between the cloak of leaves out at the two.  
He can’t make out what they’re saying. If he’s being honest, he’s not certain he wants to hear what they’re saying. In any event, he doesn’t need to know what they’re saying because his eyes are providing more than enough information. Within Ned’s hands, there’s a neon purple sheet of paper. In his lap, there’s an assorted mix of flowers. Upon his face, there’s a smile, bright as the sun, as he says something to Miles, who, likewise, is also smiling, big-eyed and impressed as Ned’s no-doubt dazzling him with what Peter’s quickly come to deduce is a love poem because flowers, a trip to the park at sunset, ansty fidgeting? Of course it’s a love poem. Ned’s always been a romantic.  
Well. To others at least.  
After a while, Ned and Miles stand and take to the path, laughing and exchanging their purple sheets and flowers between one another. It takes a moment, but after the pain of the heartache fails, Peter comes back to himself and propels himself forward, thwiping from tree to tree as the couple navigates the park and, later, the streets of Midtown.  
It’s raining now. Thick, gushing torrents of water; horrid weather for a date, he can’t help thinking, and if he takes comfort in the fact, well, he thinks he’s entitled.  
And even that is a trivial solace because, afterall, it’s not like Peter told him. As far as Ned’s concerned, Peter doesn’t even like him anymore. If he wants to go on a date with a guy he’s been mooning over since they were kids, who is Peter to get in the way of that?  
Peter doesn’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s doing. His skin is burning hot, his throat is tight, his eyes dry, and, if he hadn’t have this much practice flinging throughout the city, he probably would have face-planted into a billboard a long time ago. But Ned’s on a date with Miles, and Peter had something to tell him, and he just doesn’t know what to do. He just follows them, follows them until they come an alleyway and Miles swivels his head to point at a tattoo parlor. Before he can say whatever he was going to say to Ned, his eyes widen, brighen, and he pulls back his index finger against the others to wave. “Hey! Spiderman!”  
Peter freezes, eyes going wide as he tries to turn and swing away. But Ned’s surprised, if annoyed, “Spiderman” makes him stop in his place. He swallows, scoots out further along the lampost, and clears his throat. “Hello...citizens.”  
Ned narrows his eyes. “Hey.”  
“Dude.” Miles places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “You know, me and my friend here was just talking about you. Well.” He presses down a smile and shuffles his feet. “You and the new Spiderman. We think you’d be a great team.”  
Peter blinks, heart kicking back into overdrive. He turns to look at Ned, who’s still staring at him, cold, unimpressed. “Oh, believe me, I’d be willing”, he says, chuckling awkwardly; he spins out a web and crawls down it, dangling just a few feet away from them. “So you...you’re a fan, huh?”  
“Yeah. But you don’t gotta ask Ned that, you and him are already best friends.”  
Ned’s lips twitch. “Yeah”, he says cooly. “The best of friends.”  
“Absolutely”, Peter says, willing the desperation in his eyes to reach Ned’s heart. But Peter’s wearing a mask, and Ned’s pissed; he might as well be screaming into the void.  
Miles looks between the two; he clucks his tongue, rocks back and forward on his feet, and claps his hands together. “Well”, he says, taking a step backward. “I, uh, I’d better get home. Got chores and stuff to do.” He pats Ned on the back, then waves at Peter. “Later, guys.”  
“Bye, Miles.”  
“Bye.”  
For a moment, they just watch Miles as he crosses the street and ascends the steps to his apartment. When he gets the keys in, he turns around and waves, still smiling. Ned smiles in return and waves on back, keeps on smiling until the door closes behind Miles.  
“Ned”, Peter begins as Ned begins stomping off in the other direction. “Listen, I can explain-”  
“There’s nothing to explain, Peter”, Ned huffs underneath his breath.  
“Come on, man.” Peter spins three vines of webs, leaps past them all, and jumps in front of Ned, cutting off his path. He takes off his mask, runs a trembling hand up and down his arm, and offers a wobbly smile. “I mean, it’s not what it looks like. It’s ten o’clock, I was about to go on patrol, you know that.”  
Ned just keeps on walking. He makes a left and starts down the alleyway, pulling his hood up over his head and shoving his hands into his pockets as the rain begins to come down harder. “Yeah, right”, he tosses back over his shoulder. “You know, Peter, you may have a cool suit and badass powers now, but underneath that all, you’re still you. And you can’t lie to me.”  
Peter bites his lip; he scrambles after him, nearly tripping over the slippery pavement. He doesn’t stop, though. He came here to make amends, to fix this. But he’s not even been here for five minutes, and he’s already made things worse. He needs to clear the air, needs to get this out there. “Okay, okay, I can’t”, he relents as he strings a web along the approaching firecase; leaping into the air, he then grabs hold of the web and turns himself upside down. Ned pauses before him, nostrils flared and eyes narrow. He could walk away now. He could. But he isn’t. And something in that gives Peter the courage to say what he has to say. “I’m sorry I’ve been so weird this week”, Peter says, shaking his head at himself. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. I just-something...weird came up, and I needed to take some time off. Then I saw you with Miles and-”  
“And what, Peter?” Ned crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. “You got mad that I have friends outside of you?”  
“What? No!” Ned’s glare intensifies, and Peter closes his eyes. “Okay, yes, but it’s not in the way that you think.”  
“I’m not in the mood for this, Peter. Go fight a cat burglar or something.” He goes to brush past him, but Peter presses a hand to his chest; he scowls, meeting Ned’s frustration tit for tat, and cocks his head to the side. “Hey, come on. That’s not fair.”  
“Don’t talk to me about fair, Peter. You’ve been pissy with me all week, and the moment I hang out with someone else, you suddenly wanna be my friend again?”  
Peter’s face burns hot. “It’s not even like that! And even if it was, just what does that make you? Hanging out with somebody else to make me jealous, oh, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s real mature of you, Ned.”  
Ned shakes his head. “Fuck off, Peter.” Without another word, he turns and starts to walk away.  
Peter gulps, throat tight and dry again. Fuck, this is not how this was supposed to go down. Of all the possibilities, this is probably the absolute worst case scenario of how this could be happening. Peter spins another length of webbing and jumps to it; as he swings, he overestimates his momentum and winds up spinning around Ned, the web enveloping them both and pressing them chest to chest. For half a second, Ned’s eyes widen, and the tension in his face fades, only to be replaced once more with stubborness as he meets Peter’s eye; Peter swallows and tightens his grip around the web, his knees pressed up uncomfortably against Ned’s stomach. Thunder rattles the apartments surrounding them, and lightning streaks across the sky, causing the dim street lamps to flicker and cast shadows across the two. Peter bites his lip and, with a courage that’s not his own, leans forward, just close enough to see the droplets of rain trickling down Ned’s cheeks. But then again, those might just be tears.  
“I thought we were getting somewhere”, Ned says softly. “We had matching suits, I was working on a theme song, and you was talking sneaking into me Stark Tower. Pete. What did I do wrong?”  
Electricity spritzes throughout his body, pins and needles taken to the literal extent. His spideysenses are going haywire, and, for once, he can’t be bothered to wonder why.  
Peter shakes his head and stares down at Ned. He needs to just say it, just tell him, just shout it out on the rooftops, anything to deescalate what’s quickly turning into a disaster. But Peter’s mouth has always been one second ahead of his brain, and his brain isn’t willing to say all that just yet. But it is ready for this.  
Peter blinks, his eyes wide and wild as he bites out, “Why are you going out with Miles?”  
Ned’s eyebrows furrow, and he pulls a puzzled face. “Going out?” Peter.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Peter, for fuck’s sake, we’re just friends.”  
“Friends?” He huffs and turns his head away. “Oh, yeah, talking long, romantic walks through the park, giving each other flowers, love poems, that’s soooo friendly.”  
Ned’s face contorts with anger, and, for a second, Peter’s afraid he’s gonna storm off. But just like that, the anger fades, and his features relax as he considers Peter, perplexion transparent in his eyes before a vague understanding passes within them. He pulls his hood off his head and stares at Peter. “We were collecting flower samples and comparing notes for our biology project.”  
Peter blinks. He balls his mask up in his fist and stares at Ned. “...What?”  
“It was a project”, Ned repeats, slowly, softly, and, all at once, the tension radiating from him fizzles out. He sinks against Peter and just stares. “I mean, I do like him. But as a friend.” He wriggles his hand free from between them and places it on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter. It wasn’t a date.”  
Peter’s left eye twitches; he inhales and gives a slow, half nod of his head, then averts his attention to the ground, staring at the gathering puddles of water at their feet. “Oh.”  
He’s still wrapped around him. This close to Ned, Peter can feel, almost hear, Ned’s heart beating in his chest, can almost bristle underneath the penetrating intensity of his gaze.  
“You could have told me”, Peter mutters weakly.  
“You didn’t give me a chance to. Peter, you pushed me away.”  
Fair.  
“Peter. What’s going on with you?”  
Slowly, Peter looks up from the ground to meet Ned’s gaze. And even though Peter’s a freakish superhero with resilience to a lot of shit, standing there, with Ned looking so worried and hurt, Peter has never felt so powerless. Without a word, Peter scrambles free of his webbing and jumps back, landing in a puddle just two feet away from Ned.  
“Nothing”, Peter squeaks out. “I just...I can’t.”  
“Peter-”  
“Ned.” Peter clenches his fists. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”  
Ned’s shoulders droop. He zips up his sweater, shakes his head, and lowers his eyes. “Leave me alone, Peter.” And with that, he turns around and walks away.  
Peter doesn’t stop him.  
He just stands there, numb, buzzing, until he can will his hands to pull his mask back over his face. Then, sending a quick text to Aunt May, he leaps into the air and shoots a string of webs onto the ledge of the abandoned pizza shop before him, steadfastly ignoring the burning presence of tears behind his eyes.  
. . .  
“God, MJ, I am such an idiot.”  
MJ lowers her arm to wrap it around Peter’s waist and gives him a firm squeeze. With her free hand, she grabs three kleenexes from her tissue box and passes it to him. Peter sniffles, takes the tissue, and brings it up to his nose. “Thanks”, he murmurs before blowing. “Fucking hell, I was standing right there. He gave me an out, and I just ignored it. What’s wrong with me?”  
It’s three in the morning. They’re back at the greenhouse, sitting on the swing chair as cars rush up and down the street. Hours ago, Peter swung by MJ’s place and knocked at her window. She stumbled to it, groggy-eyed and hair set in a bonnet, before lifting the window and allowing him to scramble in. It took one look at Peter’s red, puffy face for her to shrug on a robe and her houseshoes before hopping onto his back and allowing herself to be swung to their little rendezvous. Peter’s not sure what exactly he was hoping for in going to her. He figured talking about it would make it better, but, now that it’s out there, his words and Ned’s crumpled, disappointed face keep slamming back into him, and he can’t even fathom why he thought this’d be a good idea. Peter’s chest wracks with sobs. He wraps his arms around him and presses his forehead to his knees, clenching his eyes shut as he replays the conversation over and over again in his head.  
“Pete”, MJ says softly. “You have to tell him.”  
He shakes his head. “He hates me, MJ. He’s not gonna wanna hear it.” He opens his eyes, and a fresh stream of tears glides down his cheeks. Sniffling, he lifts an arm and wipes it across his nose. He blinks his eyes clear and looks up, stares up at the half moon casting a sleepy, white blanket of light over the greenhouse.  
Man, he’s tired.  
“Come here.” MJ turns so that her back is pressed to the armrest; she reaches out and pulls Peter close until he’s nuzzled close to her chest. “You two are the absolute worst”, she whispers into his ear. “But y’all are gonna be okay. If anybody could get over this, it’s you two.”  
“I don’t know about that.” Peter rubs a knuckle against his eye and sniffles. “But thanks.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” She presses her lips against his hair and pats his chest. “Just...if you get another shot, take it, okay?” Her voice goes soft, misty, and she closes her eyes. “You guys deserve to be happy.”  
“I’m making my best friend miserable.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I don’t deserve shit.”  
“You made a mistake, Peter. A lot of mistakes, sure, but you didn’t mean for this to happen.” Peter remains silent, so MJ hugs him tighter and leans down to whisper, “You might have fucked up, Pete. But you guys aren't ruined forever.”  
At that, tears spring to Peter’s eyes. He inhales and presses his face into her shirt, biting his lips so hard that blood spills over in his lips. “I think we are”, he chokes out hoarsely.  
MJ shakes her head. “Not from where I’m sitting. Peter.” She takes his head in her hands and stares until he eventually opens his eyes. “Do yourself a favor. Take the shot.”  
Peter blinks, fresh trails of tears falling from his eyelashes. He wipes them away, then turns to lay his head back against her. “MJ?”  
MJ just holds him. “Yeah?”  
Peter exhales, slowly, and allows his lids to settle back over his eyes. “Thanks.”  
Peter snuggles against her and drops his head onto her stomach. With the excitement and emotion of the day, he quickly finds himself growing tired; eventually, the feel of MJ’s steady breathing beneath his ear and the soothing sound of chirping crickets and city racket lulls him into a fitful, restless sleep.  
. . .  
He arrives at school Monday with what MJ gracefully dubs hangover eyes. Even worse so, he forgets to brush his hair and put on some socks. He gets a few jabs from Flash and the other assholes, but Peter’s too tired, physically and emotionally, to really get upset over it. He just buys a Redbull and some Skittles from Chase behind the dumpsters, plugs in his earbuds, and shuffles into school.  
Ned’s seat is empty, with Ned having relocated himself to the back of the room. Peter averts his gaze and slips into his seat, ducking his head as he waits for their teacher to arrive.  
The funny thing about their seat? It’s placed directly in front of the two-sided mirror on Mrs. Arigachi’s desk; most days, Peter and Ned use it to safely stare out the back window without fear of being demerited for not paying attention. Today, Peter uses it to stare at Ned and will him to meet his eye; again, he doesn’t know what he expects of it, and, when he comes to the shocking realization that Ned’s using it, too, he realizes that even after this disaster of a week, he still doesn’t know how to handle this.  
Class ends, and Peter still doesn’t know how to go about this. So he doesn’t. He just stands from his seat, rushes to the back of the room, grabs Ned’s hand, and zips out of the room before he can protest.  
“Peter”, Ned sighs as Peter shoves them into the janitor’s closet. “What the hell are you doing?”  
“Ned, I-I just need a minute.” Peter clenches his hands, sweaty and slippery, then drops them and pats them against his thighs, raising his eyes to the sky as he takes in a deep breath and struggles to calm his panicking heartbeat. “Okay.”  
“Okay, what?”  
“Okay, I…” He gulps, then drops his eyes back to Ned, to his eyes, to his soft, smooth cheeks, to his lips. Ned blinks and takes half a step back, pausing when he sees Peter outstretch a hand to him. “Ned. I wasn’t jealous of Miles cause I was worried he was taking my best friend away. I was jealous cause he was taking you away.”  
Ned frowns. “What?”  
“Gah, I- wait.” He wipes a hand over his face and laughs breathlessly. “Ned, I like you.” He goes quiet, allowing the words to marinate, both to himself and Ned, before gulping and continuing. “When I figured it out, I just, I panicked, and I took off. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to mess us up. But I did mess us up! And then I saw you with Miles, and I got it all wrong, and then we fought and-”  
“Peter.” Ned reaches out, grabs Peter by his wrist, and stares at him until Peter stops talking. He gives Peter a gentle tug, causing him to stumble until he falls against him. “Peter”, he whispers, the name coming soft and unguarded. “You like me?”  
Peter bites his lip. “Yes.”  
Ned blinks. “You like me?”, he repeats, like he doesn’t believe it.  
Peter nods. “Yes.”  
Ned leans in close, until their lips are just inches apart. “You like me”, he says, a hesitant hand coming up to cup the back of Peter’s head.  
Peter blinks, and there are tears streaming down his face again. “Yes”, he says, and they’re both leaning in closer, closing the brief space between them as their lips come together in a chaotic, frenzied kiss. They both go left, and it’s weird, so Peter turns to go right just as Ned begins moving his lips, and it’s such an awkward thing that Peter giggles. Ned goes to pull away, but Peter just wraps his arms around him and pulls him in close, tilting his head back as takes his lips once more. Ned hums, his hands coming to rest comfortably on his waist, and sucks at his lower lip, sweet and curious as he presses their foreheads together and just stays there. As Peter sighs and goes to slip in his tongue, the door behind them opens, and light floods. They both jump, hands interlocked, as they stare wide-eyed at Harry the janitor, who’s watching them unimpressedly.  
“Harry”, Ned laughs. “We, uh, we were just-”  
“I don’t wanna hear it”, Harry murmurs as he turns, pushing his cart behind him. “Just...turn the light on. People won’t come in if they think it’s occupied.”  
“Right. Right.” Peter scratches the back of his head. “Sorry.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” He closes the door behind him, flicking the light on as he goes out.  
Then it’s just them.  
“So”, Ned starts, eyes drifting down to where their hands are linked.  
“So.” Peter smiles sadly and gives his hand a tight squeeze. “Look, man, I...I’m sorry.” He turns to him and steps back closer to him, shaking his head as he winces over the past week. “I was being such a dick.”  
“Yeah, well no argument there.” Ned reaches out and drags his thumb along Peter’s cheekbone. “But I think I get it.” Peter frowns, and Ned just smiles bigger. “If I saw you with someone the way you saw me with Miles...I don’t think I can entirely say I wouldn’t have reacted the same.”  
“Oh. Well, then.” Peter flushes bright red and shuffles his feet. Feeling far less confident than he he’d like he reaches out and wraps his arms around Ned. Ned sighs and falls against him, eyes fluttering shut as he tucks his face into Peter’s neck.  
“I missed you”, he murmurs into Peter’s ear.  
Peter wraps his arms tighter and breathes. “I missed you, too.”  
. . .  
They don’t waste any time. That night, they suit up, and Peter swings them to the Bronx Zoo; Peter’s tossing popcorn at a wandering Peacock when Ned suddenly nudges him when his shoulder. He turns to look at him and sees Ned’s pulled his mask up, grinning wildly.  
“What”, Peter asks, reflexively feeling his own lips curl upward.  
Ned drops his head onto his shoulder and snickers. “You’re my cinnamon apple, Pete.”  
Peter groans and tosses a handful of popcorn to the ground. “You ruined it. The moment’s over. I hope you’re happy.”  
“Mm.” He reaches up to peel up Peter’s mask. “Very.” With that, he brushes his fingers across Peter’s cheek and pulls him in for a kiss.


End file.
